


Paladins and Sorcerers

by FreckledSkittles



Series: 2019 Barisi ~Spooktober~ [1]
Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dungeons & Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Battle, Dungeons & Dragons References, M/M, Magic, Paladins, Role-Playing Game, Sorcerers, also its spooky season!!!!, but also theyre playing dnd so, look i just like magic okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-06 00:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21217646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: Two paladins, a rogue, and a ranger walk into the bar. The sorcerer serving them drinks tries not to flirt with one of the paladins. Too bad neither of them are good at subtlety.Or: game night with the squad—or is it?—is always fun, though not when Sonny and Rafael can't help but date each other in the world of Dungeons and Dragons.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Everyone's a giant nerd don't worry about it okay
> 
> So as some readers/writers may know, October is also Kinktober, and being a major fool, I didn't get the memo until after I started posting "Bed Partners," which if you haven't read yet is just eight chapters of slow-burn Barisi sex. It's a load of fun to write, very smutty, 10/10
> 
> But I wanted to write something special for October since it's super ~spooky~ and so three fics came to mind. One with minimal ~spooks~ but a lot of supernatural components, one with undercover Barisi work and some fun costumes, and one with ghost hunting that is sure to have some serious ~spooks~ and a plethora of references to Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural. The last two have married Barisi in them because I said so
> 
> So, from now until October 31st, I hope you enjoy these ~spooky~ fics! <3

The stakeout has lasted three days.

Sonny can’t remember the last time he had at least half of his armor off his person. The chain mail hangs on his shoulders like it’s part of his skin, and the weight of his sword in its sheath bounces against his leg every time he takes a step forward. He has flitted between an anxious state of restlessness, taking it out on the floorboards of the rented building he’s paced, and a dedicated plea to whatever god will listen that something, anything, happens.

“I don’t know if Tyr covers stakeouts like this,” Sonny says on the third evening. He and the three other members of his party have been stuck in the same dilapidated house, taking turns sleeping and watching the road that leads into a dense forest. His fellow paladin, Mike, barely spares him a glance when Sonny speaks. “But if anyone gets tired of waiting, I can check in with him.”

“Save it,” Amanda scolds, looking up from tightening her bow. “Patrons are below this one.”

“It’s an offer,” Mike points out, still sitting in front of the window, and reaches into the knapsack at his feet to pull out a worn tome. Amanda rolls her eyes when Sonny takes it. “Be thankful someone’s trying to hurry things along.”

Sonny isn’t offended by Amanda’s comment. The wood elf is merely cynical in nature, and she only acts that way to avoid anything deeper with her comrades. When they need her, she’ll fire an arrow from a hiding spot only she could find. She never misses, and she never leaves them behind. Although Amanda and Nick—a former thief who has kept his race secret under a hooded cloak and black gloves—have known each other longer, Sonny has started to notice Amanda’s odd quirks and traits, and he likes to think she’s accepted him, human background and all.

Nick, who has sat beside Mike during this round of keeping watch, stands and stretches. He pulls his cloak down in the back and shuffles past them. In the back of their room, a desk sits covered with various scrolls and used quills. He sits down, picks up a sheet of paper, and begins to write. “I’ll start the status report,” he states firmly. “It’s getting dark. We should prepare for nightfall.”

Mike sighs deeply out of his mouth and stands as well. “Right. I’ll check the abjuration spells downstairs. Sonny, if you want to pray, you can go up to the roof.”

Sonny nods and digs through his bag for the half-used block of incense, a dagger, and a candle. Like the times before, the prayers he wants to make swirl to his tongue, waiting to be released and shared with his world. He takes the ladder on the second floor up to the roof and gains his balance on the worn shingles before he kneels. He slices off a few long strips of incense and gathers them in a pile. From the satchel at his waist, he pulls out a match and strikes it, lighting one of the strips. He waits for the flame to burn through at least one line of incense before he lights the candle, opens the tome of prayers, and bows his head.

Sonny had been born human, at least ten years after the apocalypse—The Break, as it was called—had hit and the advancement of the world was destroyed in one fell swoop of harsh storms, disease, and decay. His family was rich with paladin blood, on both sides, and they took the destruction as a sign that this world was complete. It was time for a new one to establish and be better than the other. He grew up on an island—crumbling signs called it Staten Island—huddled with ruined homes and struggling families, blood-related or not. Moon elves lived on every other block and a clan of dwarves controlled the market. It was not unusual to find a cryptid creature lurking around at night, sniffing for fresh meat, just as it was not uncommon to see a paladin like Sonny hanging around a group of self-proclaimed, self-taught investigators. Wherever the just cause was, wherever a lead could provide answers to the cause of The Break, he would be there.

The Supernatural Vigilante Union had been informed of a disturbance and overuse of magic on a plot of land on the northwestern corner of a place called New York. Their squad leader, Olivia, had sent them up there with orders of strict reconnaissance and nothing more. Sonny doubted, and still doubts, that he and his teammates are going to stick to those orders. In the few years Sonny has come to know the vigilantes, they have always pushed the boundaries, finding just enough loopholes to have them follow through with a mission without compromising it. He used to think it was a race thing, considering the various non-humans he worked around, but the more he got to know Amanda and Nick told him otherwise.

Sonny finishes his prayers to Tyr with a request to watch over his team and protect them from danger. He asks that they follow the right path in order to reach justice—for their own sake, for the sake of the lives who survived The Break, for the future of their world.

* * *

It’s sometime during the early hours, Nick and Mike waking up behind him and getting ready to take watch, when Amanda nudges him. Sonny looks over at her, remaining quiet, and spots a hooded figure walking towards them. They had taken refuge in one of several abandoned buildings—some were homes, others were former market centers—so it was unlikely they had been spotted. Regardless, Amanda keeps a finger to her lips and her eyes on the figure approaching the area.

Nick is already in position behind them, pressed against the wall and dagger in hand. Mike crouches between the two chairs; as the leader of their group, he’ll direct them on what to do next. The hand he places on Sonny’s shoulder tells him to, quietly, switch places with him and get ready to head out. Of the four of them, his face is the most trusting and he has an uncanny ability to portray himself as something he isn’t. Sonny says a quick prayer to Tyr for their safety, and his own, and makes his way down the stairs, Nick on his heels but hanging back in the shadows.

The path between the buildings is mostly clear; a few piles of trash and concrete-bound stone patches of the road but not enough to limit traffic. The only ones in this area were themselves and the overzealous magic user. When he gets outside, Sonny runs a hand through his hair a few times, hops in place to make his breathing more ragged, and he proceeds to frantically start looking through rubbish to make himself look occupied. Nick had slid against the wall and remained in the shadows of the dilapidated buildings around them, keeping an eye on him from a safe distance. Sonny has no way of knowing how long the figure will take to reach him, so he stalls for as much time as he can, hoping the ruckus he’s making will quicken the mystery figure’s arrival.

Sure enough, shortly after his rummaging, a voice comes from behind. No weapons threatening his neck, no spells under heated breath, just a wide stance and glare from hazel eyes that peer under a heavy hood. “What are you doing?”

Sonny gasps as he spins around, hands hovering above the rubbish. He clutches his chest and sags, pausing to lick his lips before he responds. “Gods. You scared me a good deal. Didn’t hear you come up.”

“I don’t like repeating myself.” The eyes flash with a glint of almost orange light, head tilted; the cloak is dark and heavy, sitting on the person’s shoulders. They stay standing, ready to pounce if need be, right hand twitching.

“Lost my prayer book.” Sonny chuckles, as if to mock his clumsiness, and rolls his shoulders. “And my incense. And my matches.”

The person in the cloak doesn’t move, but their tone eases just slightly. Although his armor and sword are on his person, his cover as a lost paladin should ease any concerns. He is slowly proving himself to be a non-threat. “Sounds clumsy, for a paladin.”

He smiles sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little.” The person throws back their hood; the man isn’t very tall, the cloak covering all of him and stopping at his feet, not even allowing a sliver of what lays underneath it. His hair is neat, swooped slightly in the front; his eyes, sharp shades of jade, are critical of every movement he makes. Sonny notes that he hasn’t lowered his stance, but he takes notice of his hands. There are two rings on the fingers of his left hand: one sapphire, the other a deep purple, at first glance. Nothing of his physical appearance or presentation makes any sort of identification, but he knows magic if he has rings like that. “Paladins aren’t often out this far. What brings you out here?”

“I’m between places. Few friends south of here wanted me to join them on a pilgrimage to a few relics from the Old World. According to some books found from an old university, there’s a whole city of monuments focused on figures of justice.” It isn’t a complete lie: Sonny had always wanted to see the city from the Old World. His parents said its old name was Washington DC and played a central role in the politics of the land that existed before The Break. He laughs softly, making sure to smile coyly when he adds, “I serve Tyr, the god of justice, so it’s a fitting visit.”

The person nods in comprehension, eyeing him up and down with a flickering gaze. He isn’t fully convinced of his ability to do harm, but he can get there. Just a little more. “If I had anything to give you, I would. This area isn’t safe.” The way he says it suggests a deeper danger lurking around. Sonny wonders if it’s a reference to himself.

He frowns and uneasily shifts on his feet. “Really? What’s out here? I thought I’d come prepared,” he waves to his chain mail and sheath, “but I haven’t been out here before. Should have kept a better eye on my things and where I was going.” Open himself up, pose as innocent, give him a reason to trust him or take an opportunity to gain the upper hand. His response will help decide how the team proceeds.

The man sighs, shaking his head to himself, and straightens up. His stance lowers, his posture loosens up; Sonny knows he is not considered a threat. “I could use a locator spell on your items. You might be able to find them quickly and head out sooner.”

“Oh, thanks!” Sonny grins—he knows it will delete any lingering doubts the other man has of him—and holds out a hand. The man takes it—a human, judging by the weight of his grip, with some darker undertones warming his palm. Definitely an experienced magic user. Perhaps a sorcerer or a warlock. “You don’t know how helpful that is. My magic isn’t as strong as I want it to be.”

“Magic is an art form,” he says, providing each word cautiously to decipher the best meaning. “It’s learned best with practice. I’m sure you can improve if you keep at it.” The man raises his hands and flicks his wrist; instantly, it’s shrouded in a blue glow, soft wisps breaking off and evaporating into thin air. The movement reveals a glimpse of his clothes under the cloak: he’s dressed rather fancily, jacket and slacks made of a bright violet fabric that contrasts the black of his cloak, uncharacteristic of someone who has disrupted the area and any other life that comes near his area.

Sonny knows that, if done correctly, the locator spell would put his belongings in the room of the building his team currently resides in. If he can get him at least in the building, they can work with him and get him talking. Whatever would limit their chances of causing a fight. “I really appreciate this. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know.” He jumps with a startle and smiles to himself. “I haven’t even introduced myself. You can call me—”

Before he can get the rest of his sentence out, the magic in the man’s hands change, the flash of light returns to his eyes, accompanied by alarm and blazing anger, and a bright orange ball crashes into Sonny’s chest. He loses his balance and is shot backwards into the dirt, barely missing the rubble. He gathers himself quickly and scrambles for his sword, but his hands are held apart by green energy controlled by the cloaked man, pinning him down without any physical contact. Sonny tries to move but gives up when the hold tightens and pushes him further against the ground.

“You’re good,” the man admits, equal parts teasing and genuine. “You had me fooled for a second. But you shouldn’t have stayed so close to your friends. I wouldn’t have found them so quickly if you had been farther away.”

Sonny curses himself and glares at the other man. He should have done better but they had no idea what they were dealing with. Whoever this person is, he’s much stronger than they had anticipated. The four of them might have a small chance of taking him, but it’d be a battle. “We were short on time,” he explains curtly. “I went with what I had. Plus, you fell for it pretty easily, if you ask me.”

The man shrugs, his fingers twisting in the air, and Sonny gripes at the tightened hold. “I suppose I have a weakness for lost puppies.”

“Next time I cross one, I’ll let it know.” Sonny almost asks Nick what’s taking him so long—any time would be good to come in and attack. “If you found my pack, then you should know I’m not a threat.”

“I don’t like your voice.” His other hand raises, this one glowing yellow, and Sonny feels a tingle of magic on his lips. He tries to pull them apart to speak but they stay shut. The man smirks at his annoyed huff. “Much better.” He lowers his hands with a snap; although the magic vanishes from his hands, Sonny is still on the ground, mouth sealed and arms held on either side of his head. “It should wear off in an hour or so. In the meantime, I’ll be having a chat with your friends.”

Sonny groans and sags against the ground with a huff. Whoever this man is, he isn’t wasting any time. He wants to ask Tyr if this is somehow part of a greater plan, but he knows there won’t be an answer. He settles for praying instead, wishing for his friends’ protection and for whatever fight will form to be limited in casualties.

“I’ll save you the time,” Nick speaks up, and he appears in a flurry of navy blue, tackling the other man and wrangling him to the ground. Sonny takes a deep breath when he feels a counterspell for the magic ease his restraints, and he sits up. Mike, tome in the same hand wielding his shield, holds a hand out to help him stand, which he takes with a thankful squeeze.

“Go inside, contact Olivia,” he orders, already reaching for his sword. “We’re ready for her.”

“He’s not hostile,” Sonny states, already gaining an idea on what will occur between them. All four of them are ready to fight if necessary, but Sonny knows that they can talk to the sorcerer. Even while Nick struggles behind them, there are better ways to do this. “Just defensive.”

“Right now, we can’t make that distinction. If we knew more about him, I’d say otherwise.” Mike shoves him toward their hideout. “Now go.”

“I quite liked him,” the mystery man says. Nick is thrown back with a spell and rolls but stands, relatively unharmed. There is a stronger rise of magic coming from the man now, spirals of orange that coil up his arms and grip his shoulders. His gaze is smoldering, almost burning, and Sonny thinks he sees them deepen in color, almost to black. “I’ll decide when we’re done with each other.”

“We’re defending our own,” Nick spits out, probably more irritated at the throw than anything else. “You attack, we respond—”

“And what, I shouldn’t be surprised when fire burns?” The man extends his arm and pulls Nick towards him, gripping the collar of his cloak. Nick’s hands fly to it, as if to preemptively protect his hood. “You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that.”

“We’re taking purely defensive measures,” Mike says, clear and steady. He keeps himself physically between the man and Sonny, a sign of his protection of his own. Even if it won’t do enough, the implication remains: Mike will not allow unprompted violence to fall on them. “My rogue responded aggressively because of how you treated our companion. We aren’t here to harm you.”

“Where’s your ranger?” The man asks. “If you’re trying to be so transparent, why isn’t she with you?” When Mike doesn’t respond, he nods to Nick, tense and wary, still in his grasp. “I’ll release him once I know where she is.”

An arrow comes flying from the building behind them and is stopped in midair. The cloaked man looks at it with mild irritation and glances up at Amanda, who has stood from her crouched position behind the window with a glare. Their options are bare; the man’s instincts are quicker, and his magic is even stronger than they had planned. Mike shuts his tome, a sign that they will back down and accept the terms laid out for them.

The man, still holding onto Nick but lingering on his shoulder, nods to their hideout. His magic remains, skirting up his cloak and over his shoulders, a warning to listen or face the consequences of disobeying. “Inside. I want to talk.”

* * *

The man places silencing spells around the room they had used for their stakeout, preventing any communication with the outside. He demands their names when they relinquish their weapons to him, and his lips curl when Sonny tells him his name. A disgusted “of course” falls from his lips before he shoves him away. The four of them are kept separated against the far wall, aligned for an easy watch but with plenty of space between them. At the very least, they aren’t bound or tied in any way; the man has already proven his power exceeds them. They don’t need a reminder that he is in charge.

Mike insists the four of them sit with their hands in full view to show the man they won’t do him any harm. If talking is all he wants, they will comply, no questions asked. By the look Amanda gives them and the disgruntled huff from Nick, it’s not something they necessarily want. Sonny would much rather have his sword on his hip, just for reassurance, but he understands Mike’s motives. They need to re-establish the trust that Sonny had tried to gain and keep in order to know everything they can about him.

The man takes the chair from the desk and positions it towards them. He had been paging through their notes for a good while, humming at certain points or disapproving of their comments. He holds up the papers with an amused smirk. “These notes you have on me are an interesting read. I’ve learned a few things about myself. Mysterious and unpredictable are my personal favorites.”

Mike, having demanded that he be the sole communicator of his squad, nods. “We’ve heard from multiple reports that you’ve disrupted the area with intense magic that has no determined focus.”

“Have I?” The man scoffs as he looks back down at the papers. “Magnificent. I hadn’t noticed.”

“We weren’t sure what it was. We only knew it from how it was recorded. Nothing else.”

“Well, I have to say, your attempt to understand me is memorable. I’d praise you if I could.” The man tosses the papers aside as if they had done him a great disservice. “If you had gotten more, I definitely would have been impressed.”

Mike licks his lips, thinking. “You could offer it now.” When he doesn’t get a response, he tries again. “We have no one to tell. We’ve given up our weapons and followed everything you’ve demanded. The least you could do is tell us something—your name, even.”

The man stays quiet, arms crossed in front of his chest. He mulls over Mike’s words and hums quietly in his musing. Sonny examines him, from the parting slip of his cloak that reveals the smooth cut of his body to the neat swoop of his hair. Judging by the glimpse of fabric that he catches, the bright purple of his suit is designed with small blue shapes—squares and triangles, spaced out across the fabric—swirling across its surface. If their situation was different, he’d admire how attractive the man was—the round shape of his face, the slope of his nose, the spark of light that makes his eyes shine twelve different shades of green.

_ “Not again, Sonny.” _

_ “What?” _

_ “Stop falling in love with the DM.” _

_ “Yeah, just because he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean you can create a romantic storyline every time you interact with him.” _

Perhaps another time.

With a resigned sigh and a roll of his shoulders, the man utters his name, clear and firm: “Rafael.”

Mike nods, a smile lingering on his lips. “Rafael. Thank you.” He glances at the rest of them before he continues. “You may ask us anything.”

Rafael tilts his head, brows furrowed in a mixture of confusion and contemplation. “I wasn’t allowed to before? Good thing I have your blessing now.”

“Gods, what a piece of work,” Amanda grumbles and raises her voice when his glare solidifies on her despite Mike’s insistence that she stay quiet. “Look, I’m not impressed by your games, alright? Just get what you want and leave.”

“I don’t think you’re in charge here. None of you are.” Rafael stands in front of her and glowers, fingers glowing red and humming. “And here I was, hoping I wouldn’t have to make an example out of you.”

“You want us to behave?” Nick asks, a challenge in his tone. Mike tries to stop him too but he keeps going. “You saw under my hood. No one else knows. If you want leverage, you can leave the others alone and keep your magic trained on me.” He raises his head, and for a second, it looks like Rafael is actually considering it. He steps away from Amanda, confused, and wanders to Nick. “Use me as a bargaining chip. I won’t get in your way.”

“They don’t know?” He whispers. Nick shakes his head. The hood obscured his face; the most anyone ever saw, as far as Sonny knew, was his nose or mouth, but nothing else. He made sure it stayed that way. “You’re quite the secret keeper.”

“I did what I had to. No one’s taken it personally.”

Rafael frowns at that. “That’s a shame. Blows my whole plan out the window.” He stands and gestures to the chair he had pulled from the desk. “Sit here.” Nick does as requested, hands clutching his knees; he has to be nervous. The sorcerer is standing close to him now and eyeing him like a starved beast about to devour a meal. Amanda shifts, bowing her head and draping her long blonde hair in front of her eyes, but whatever is on her mind stays there. At least that’s a relief.

_ “Now who’s falling in love with who?” _

_ “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” _

_ “Can we roll to kick Sonny out?” _

“Nick, you don’t have to do this,” Mike reminds him, soft and cautious. “I’m a better target.”

“You worry about getting answers,” he cuts him off before he can even finish. Cold and distant, like nothing’s changed.

Rafael steps in front of Nick, signaling the end of their conversation. “That’s enough moaning over each other,” he snaps. “Who do you work for? Because I sure as hell don’t buy your paladin’s story.” Sonny tries not to pout at the insult but he can’t help the drop in his gut at the words. He thought he had done a better job than that.

“We work with a group of mercenaries located south of here,” Mike explains. He keeps it brief, saying enough to grab a general sense but not expose the vigilantes. “We’re employed by anyone who needs assistance against supernatural causes. We mostly do reconnaissance on the remainders of the Old World, like these ruins.”

Rafael scowls. “Try again.” He drops a hand on Nick’s shoulder in warning. Their partner shifts in the chair, straightening up at the contact.

Mike frowns. “I’m not authorized to reveal any more than that.”

“When I reveal your friend’s identity, what do you think is next?” To prove his point, and remind them of his capabilities, he raises his hand and creates a humming sphere of yellow energy in midair. “You’re lucky I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt.”

“He answered your question,” Amanda snaps. “Why don’t you accept it and move on?”

“Amanda, please,” Mike sighs before gaining Rafael’s attention again. “I know it’s not what you wanted, but I’m not going to betray our code. I would keep these secrets from any non-members of our organization. And I think it’s safe to say you wouldn’t be as generous with your answers either.”

The displeasing snarl on his face tells them that Mike proved a point, but the vanished magic and lowered hand shows he listened. Rafael steps away from Nick and crosses his arms. “Fine. Ask me something.”

“You don’t have to—” Mike starts, purely as a courtesy, but Amanda beats him to it.

“What are you doing in this area?” She demands. “Our records and recon tell us that you’re the only one permanently living here. No one settles here—anyone caught taking refuge here is just passing through.”

Rafael looks between them. “I’m looking for something.” When she waves him on, he scoffs. “No. You asked, that’s your answer. You established the rules.”

“It’s fair, Amanda,” Mike says, his voice growing firmer when she tries to protest. “We have more questions.”

A sly smirk quickly flashes on the sorcerer’s face. “A bit disorderly, aren’t we?” Rafael snickers at the disgruntled glares directed at him. “What were you told to look for? And please,” he adds, raising his hand, “be as specific as you can.”

Mike doesn’t answer for a moment. When he does, he sighs and shuts his eyes. “The request was put in by a band of halflings—bards, mostly. They were traveling through and noticed a disturbance. We were told it had the same signatures as the energy that destroyed the Old World and caused The Break.”

Initially, Rafael listens intently, clearly intrigued by whatever knowledge he holds and entertained by his exploits. But at the mention of The Break, his expression falls, and he turns away from them. The Break had become universal for describing the end of the Old World and the beginning of a new one. No one knew how it occurred; Sonny had been born right after it happened. He grew up with gnomes trading under a bridge his parents called the Verrazano and listening to stories that dwarves told about Akhluts lurking in cold waters. There was no explanation for the destruction of one era and the usher of another; neither anyone who lived in both times nor the books of academia he found in the rubble of learning institutions could prove a reason.

Maybe it was a gut feeling, but Sonny suspected that Rafael knew something about The Break. It could be nothing—he could simply have a bad reaction to it. No one ever rejoiced or looked back fondly at it. But if there was anything he knew, Sonny hoped he would tell them.

“The Break, you say,” Rafael muses, low and deep. It almost sounded like he was talking to himself, but he turns back to them. “What do you know about it?”

“I thought it was our turn to ask a question,” Sonny says. The glare he’s fixed with almost makes him wish he hadn’t spoken, but he presses on. The only way to win against this man is by doing it with his own game. “You agreed to that.”

Rafael grimaces and strides over to him. He kneels down to his level, grabbing his chin roughly between his thumb and index finger. His eyes are a bright green that blaze with magic, a sign of how strong it holds him together and the intensity it maintains. He is more than a sorcerer granted control over such powerful magic—he is held up by it, guided by it, made from it to form a singular person. “You weren’t even alive when The Break occurred, were you?”

Sonny swallows roughly before he answers. He truly hopes this man doesn’t have the ability to eliminate him with his gaze alone. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You tell me. What do _ you _ know about The Break?”

“It was a destructive episode that could only be performed by intense magic and was devastating enough that it wrecked society and set it back several years.” Sonny removes his hand, pushing it away with a firm wrap around his wrist. Rafael shoves him on his back and pins him down with the same aura as before, hands shimmering with green, this time placing his hands above his head.

“Is that all?” Rafael sneers at him. “Have your leaders taught you anything, or are you an idiot?”

“That’s all we know. Ask Mike.”

Mike, who has been staring at the same wooden plank since Sonny spoke, looks up at his name. Rafael raises an eyebrow expectantly, a silent request to jump in. “That’s all we know,” he admits. “A magic force split the lands and disrupted the water, and a good chunk of the population was depleted. Anything else is pure speculation and rumors.”

Whether he means to or not, Rafael releases Sonny and sits back, his magic vanished and his mouth pulled into a taut frown. “Speculation and rumors.” The words are spat out, almost in offense for being there in the first place. Without them, Rafael scoffs and growls out, “Is that all I am?”

“All _ you _ are?” Amanda asks, brows drawn and eyes narrowed. “Who said we were talking about you?”

“You’re all idiots.” Rafael stands, paces the room for a brief moment, and turns back to them with a flourish of his robes. “Sorcerers have no choice in how we earn our magic. We don’t get to read about it or learn from an apprentice. It’s thrust upon us.”

Both Amanda and Sonny start to respond, the former with fury and the latter with interest, but Mike holds an arm out to silence them, expression calm and patient but on edge. Anyone who has any information about The Break, regardless of how knowledgable or limited it may be, is worth listening to without interruption.

Rafael’s eyes narrow at them as he steps closer. His lips curl, his teeth gnash, and a bit of red seeps out from his hands. The energy has turned his eyes the same color, bathing him in scarlet and clouding over his entire body. “I was born to ordinary humans. They kept out of magic—they thought it was too complicated. My mother used to say it was easier to ignore it than give it any time or attention. A clan of fae tricked my parents into using magic from an ancient tome to place a blessing of protection and well-being over me. My mother had good intentions and asked that I always remember how to speak for myself and fight for what’s right. My father wanted to give me immense physical power and ruptured the continents, disturbed the tides, and wrecked half of all life in the process. And when he tried to fix it,” the glow of his hands is accompanied by a warm hum, and Nick hops off of his chair to get closer to his party, “rather than reversing the damage, he released every inch of magic from that tome and onto me.”

Mike grabs their weapons from the table with a quick crawl across the floor. Sonny scrambles to clip his sheath back to his hips; Amanda moves with a fluid wave to hold her bow and a fistful of arrows. Nick slips off the chair and lands gracefully beside them, facing Rafael and ready to pounce. If the sorcerer is bothered by their movement, he doesn’t reveal it, but Sonny thinks those chances are low. His attention is not on them any longer.

Rafael lifts his hands, pulsing and thrumming, cracks of energy jumping off his fingertips and spinning around him. “You want to know what caused The Break?” He fixes them with a glare, and the temperature in the room drops from the fury brewing on the outskirts of his tongue. “You’re looking at it.”

The next few seconds are a blur. Magic crackles in the room and expands against the walls, sending wood and brick every which way with a loud bang. Sonny, being the closest to the blast, tumbles immediately through the blast’s hole and falls over the edge, Nick falling close behind him. They tumble over gravel and hard dirt and rubble and stop against a hard slab of stone. Immediately, Sonny’s limbs are heavy with a dense soreness and ache, his cheek rubbed harshly against the grainy rocks and coarse ground. Amanda and Mike remain above them, clinging to the formed ledge and dangling.

Nick lingers over Sonny defensively, knuckles cracked and breath ragged, propping himself up with one palm pressed against the dirt. He has to adjust his hood to keep his identity hidden but he still keeps his attention on the building they had just fallen out of. Sonny tries to move out from under him—his sword was removed from his hands but it’s just out of reach, only a few meters away—but Nick’s other hand, the one still gripping his dagger, keeps him down.

“Stay down,” he orders. “Move on my signal.”

Before he can ask more, Rafael drops in front of them, levitating a few centimeters off the ground. He looks too far gone for words, too captured by his current state and wrapped up in the high-energy winds around him. Nick stands, still keeping himself in front of Sonny, dagger flashing off the light that spews from the embers erupting at his feet. Sonny would guess that even if his outer appearance and the brief background he gave suggest he’s human, there is a clear lack of humanity left in him now. He is a being of magic, a control for energy beyond any of their understanding, a lightning strike and blazing inferno of fear that is responsible for the current state of the world.

“That was a little rude of you,” Nick remarks. “I thought we were having a nice conversation.”

“Your diplomacy bothers me,” Rafael huffs, glancing down at Sonny with disdain. “If you asked better questions, maybe I wouldn’t have to react negatively.”

“You didn’t have to say anything to us. You only have yourself to be upset with.”

Rafael hops back and throws a round of fire at them. Nick hops out of the way and drags Sonny, still reeling from the tumble, with him. Before he can help him up properly, Rafael is sending another shower over them and forcing them apart, Sonny rolling in one direction and Nick leaping in the other. A few embers catch on his hood and vanish when he slides over the ground and hooks an ankle behind Rafael’s knee. The sorcerer goes down, and Nick takes his chance to gain the upper hand. He tries to mark him, but sparks of lightning keep the blade away. He opts for digging the dagger into the ground and pinning him down, but a knee in his gut stops him. Nick is tossed off with a grunt and is hit with the same green energy that had been used before on Sonny.

Nick’s hood somehow stays on, by some miracle, and he keeps his head level with the ground when the sorcerer positions himself in his lap, out of breath and breathing heavily. “Well,” Nick says with the telling signs of a smirk in his voice, “aren’t you impressive.”

“You shouldn’t have brought a dagger to a magic fight,” Rafael spats. Sonny makes sure his attention is on Nick and not himself so he can scoot across the dirt to gain a better vantage point. Mike and Amanda are scrambling above him, focused on recomposing themselves, so he’ll have to protect Nick by himself. Their own always comes first.

“I didn’t get the memo.” Nick’s legs come up and hit Rafael square in the back; Rafael grunts, managing to catch himself from falling, and the magic around his hands inches further up his arms. Nick only growls in response at what must be a tightened hold over him and the spread of his legs, pinned by green rings of magic. “C’mon. Is that all you have? Some flashy hands and a few restraints?”

Rafael’s hand reaches forward, somewhere Sonny can’t see, and Nick instantly writhes on the ground. He utters something in an ancient language—something he doesn’t know, but can only tell it’s old and spiteful. Nick practically sags at the words, whatever they may be, and Sonny takes the chance to wrap his arms around Rafael’s middle and squeeze.

The choice might not have been the best one—Rafael’s hands grab his forearm and try to remove it, snarls spat out with fury and nails digging into him—but Sonny sticks to his plan. He pulls back to try and remove the sorcerer from Nick; Rafael throws his elbows back, stretches upward to try and slip out, even tries turning around to physically push him, but Sonny only tightens his hold. Nick, freed from the slightest slip in concentration that Sonny was hoping to cause, sits up and holds his dagger against Rafael’s neck. The blade sits a bit too close to his skin for Sonny’s liking, but the sharp presence makes him still nonetheless.

“Don’t hurt him,” Sonny requests, equal parts firm and cautious.

“Relax,” Nick states with a huff. “I’m not gonna do anything to him.”

“You should,” Rafael scoffs and says something in the same language as before; Nick’s hold on his dagger tightens. He returns to Common just as quickly as he switched out of it, “You both have five seconds to let me go before I send you both flying over the forest.”

A strike of lightning flashes right next to the trio, filling the air with heat and sending sparks flying. Sonny feels Rafael slip from his grasp as they try to search for the sender of the attack but there’s absolutely nothing. It’s not raining and the sky is clear—there’s no other explanation for the presence. Magic is the only option.

“That wasn’t me,” Rafael says, hands raised in front of him, eyes wide. He looks just as frazzled as Sonny feels; he isn’t sure if that’s reassuring or worrying.

“Who else would it be?” Nick snaps. “You have the most extensive knowledge of magic out of anyone here.”

The orange energy floats around Rafael and grows more intense than it had been, flickering out towards Nick when he speaks. “What do I have to gain from attacking both of you?” Nick doesn’t respond, searching the sky for whatever caused the lightning. Sonny picks his sword up and looks for anything at ground-level that could have targeted them. Rafael, arms crossed, scoffs at him and cocks his hip out. “What do you plan on doing, stabbing the sky?”

Sonny frowns and tightens his hold on the hilt. The second he opens his mouth, another strike of lightning falls next to them, this time landing right next to him. Nick calls his name but his ears are ringing too much to decipher it. Sonny turns in the direction he saw the zap come from before a jet of magic swoops behind him and smacks him square in the back. He goes flying forward, sword dropping beside him, and comes to another harsh landing on concrete and stone fragments. A rough hand grabs his ankle and lifts him, dangling him a few centimeters off the ground. The hand belongs to a troll if his upside-down identification is correct, his beard long and his skin grotesque, but he’s dressed rather nicely for a creature that smells like rancid meat. No rags or half-torn articles of clothing in sight.

The troll grabs his sword and tosses it in his free hand, watching it hop against his palm with a grunt. Sonny, dangling a few centimeters off the ground, reaches out to stop him, but the tip of the blade pokes his chest. The troll huffs in his face and growls; even without words, he can recognize the warning when it presents itself. He stays silent and accepts his predicament, else he faces a fist or something worse. Sonny lowers his hand, relinquishing control to the troll. Behind him, he hears Nick and Rafael having their own fight with grotesque trolls, and from the ruckus coming from the building they had been using, the rest of the team is facing similar issues.

This really isn’t their day.

* * *

“Carisi, I swear to god,” Nick threatens from the kitchen once they clean up the dining table of snacks and beer bottles, “if you manage to fall in love with Barba on a campaign again, I’m never playing this game with you again.”

“You’re the one who suggested Barba be the DM,” Amanda reminds him. Rafael, book and game board in hand, shrugs when Sonny glances up from putting his dice away. “Who’s really at fault here?”

“Still Carisi!”

“Is it my fault I wanna be with my boyfriend in every universe available to me?” Sonny frowns.

Amanda and Nick stare at him, dumbfounded with a mixture of disbelief and disappointment. Even Mike—who has quietly been putting food away while they bickered—clears his throat and focuses on clipping the bag of chips closed. Sonny pouts and leans against Amanda’s table. “What do you want me to say? I love the man.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Rafael says, reaching up to pat his cheek with a warm smile just for him. “And I appreciate the sentiment. If you want the campaign to be a dating simulator, you can make it into one.”

“How could you encourage him like this?” Nick huffs.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mike lets out a long sigh. “Rafael’s just as grossly into Sonny as Sonny is with him.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two paladins, a rogue, and a ranger wake up in a basement. They're not here to make friends. They're here to get answers and save a sorcerer.
> 
> Or: it's Operation Save Rafael, featuring references to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited at all the praise and attention this has gotten! When I say it means a lot to me, I truly cannot put into words what reading your comments means <3 I didn't think a D&D style AU would get so much attention, considering it's fantasy-based and those type of role-playing games aren't everyone's cup of tea. But for those of you who don't know a lot about D&D (I've only played one campaign and done a lot of research for the fantasy whore in me), think of the game Skyrim, because this idea came to me when I was playing Skyrim 😊so if the D&D universe didn't have something I was looking for, I turned to that game because I am nothing if not a nerd
> 
> CAUTION WARNING for some violence, specifically at the end, including magic fighting and the killing of trolls, and a reference to blood in the second break
> 
> Tomorrow this story concludes but I've really loved this AU! I didn't think I would love it so much, but I really enjoyed writing it and would not be against adding to this universe or continuing with this team's adventures. They are, after all, a great team <3 but if you want more, please let me know! If someone references a Barisi idea to me, there's a 95% chance I end up writing it, hence all the open story fics I have in Chrome right now oops

The first thing Sonny notices when he wakes up is the ache of his limbs and a harsh tug of rope clenched around his wrists. His memory is fuzzy—a group of trolls took over their base of operations, and he and his team were discarded like dolls in a cold cement room. Sonny can only remember being dragged by his ankles and Mike’s orders to not fight back, and a brief recall of an intense fight Rafael put up when he was grabbed by the arms and hauled away from them. After that, it’s a rather large blur of activity and darkness.

Sonny blinks away the drowsiness in his eyes and looks down at himself: his armor and weapons are gone, his legs spread out in front of him, and his arms pulled back behind him. His wrists, from what he can tell, are bound with rough twine behind a pillar in the dim basement they had been thrown in. There’s a protection spell on the knot that prevents it from being broken. If he wants to get out, he would have to get out through the actual binds wrapped around his wrists or remove the spell on the knot.

In the dim light coming from the candles on an overhead chandelier, Sonny sees his teammates in similar predicaments. Nick—his hood still on but scorched at the edges—and Mike are still passed out. Amanda is the closest one to him and alert. He sits up straight when they lock eyes, and a wave of relief releases the tension in her shoulders.

“Thank gods,” Amanda sighs. “I’ve been waiting for one of you to wake up.”

“How long have you been awake?” Sonny asks. She’s facing him in a way that makes them parallel, so it’s not difficult to see the rope binding her wrists behind the pillar. The glow around the knots tells him there’s twice as many magic seals over her handmade cuffs, the yellow curses pulsing against the rope.

“A few minutes. One of the trolls checked on us earlier.” Her nose scrunches at the mention. “They’re not the talking type.”

Sonny frowns and leans against the wall. His muscles scream when he shifts back and digs his back into concrete. He realizes Rafael is nowhere to be seen when he turns to see if there’s anything to his right. Just some crates and another table, this one holding their belongings. “Did you hear anything before we got here?”

“What do you think?” Amanda bows her head with a heavy sigh. “They spoke Orcish.”

“Of course they did.” There’s a bit of noise above them, some deep grunting and harsher yells that sound a bit more humane, but it subsides as quickly as it breaks. They share a glance when a heavy thud silences the cries. “Well. That can only mean something bad.”

She scoffs and shifts, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’d say that, but there’s something more to it. And I know the sorcerer knows something.”

“Rafael?” When she nods in confirmation, Sonny inches forward. “What happened to him? I vaguely remember seeing him get taken away, but he wasn’t happy about it.”

Amanda frowns, bordering on sympathetic. “You and Mike went down quickly once we got down here. Sleeping charm,” she explains before he can ask. “Nick and I resisted it for a bit longer. They brought Rafael down here with us but he was called up before they could tie him down. He wasn’t letting them near him without a fight. Even took down a good few of them before they overpowered him and dragged him back upstairs. That’s all I can remember.”

“You didn’t see where they took him?”

“No, sorry, I was a bit busy passing out.” Amanda spats the words with irritation, but she softens up a bit without any prompting. “If it helps, they seemed hyper-focused on him. I’d say he was the one they were after. We were just collateral.”

From a pillar behind him, the one aligned with Amanda’s, Nick stirs and grunts, trying to roll his limbs but unable to from his binds. He tries to turn his wrists around to face him, and Sonny steals a glimpse of a dark red glow from the knot, a charm similar to Amanda’s, perhaps stronger. He gives in rather quickly, bowing his head to better hide his face. Sonny is shocked the hood has lasted so long, even through their capture, despite the large tear on the front that runs along the seam. Any more give and the hood would do more harm than good. Amanda brightens up when he sits up, but Nick doesn’t say anything, curling his legs to his chest and turning away from them.

“Hey,” she greets him, offering a small smile. “How’re you feeling?”

“Fine,” Nick responds, gruff and harsh. Sonny can’t tell if it’s because of the bitter attitude lacing his voice or from a lack of use. “You didn’t hear anything the trolls said to me, right?”

“I’m not fluent in Infernal. I didn’t even know you could understand it.”

His legs shift closer against his body, and Nick curls inward even more. Sonny looks between the two in shock; he didn’t know Nick could understand Infernal, but that would explain why Rafael talked to him in that old language. Usually, someone being able to understand Infernal was a sign they had a darker origin to their identity. Maybe it would make sense if he knew what Nick was, but right now, he can only assume. The ex-thief has kept his identity hidden for this long and that’s not going to willingly change anytime soon.

“When they hit you, Sonny,” Nick starts to explain, barely looking up from the glare pointed at his shoes, “Rafael tried to escape. Like he knew what they were doing.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “You probably heard him scream with reckless abandon.”

Sonny has a brief memory of the scene: with the troll tossing him over his shoulder and carrying him over to the other monsters, the loudest struggle was with Rafael. Most of it was grunts, hands spinning with fire and trying to push away from them, but his verbal attacks were more interesting. He refused to let them in, whatever that meant; he didn’t want to work with them or hear what they had to say; if they wanted the magic he held inside, they would have to kill him for it.

“He said he was looking for something,” Sonny points out. “Maybe it had to do with them?”

“We don’t even know what they’re doing here or who they are,” Amanda reminds him softly. “For all we know, it could have been an act.”

He would hate to think that something like that could happen, especially since he was the one who had interacted with the sorcerer the most. And a lot of effort would require such a long-lasting trick like Rafael working for people he had been trying to avoid. “Do you know where he went?”

Nick shakes his head; “No. Like Amanda, I was focused on other things. All I know is that they took him back upstairs when we were taken down here.” He turns to Amanda, who perks up at the attention and listens intently. “If I had to guess, I’d say these trolls are scavengers. They’re passing through here and aren’t worried about taking any obstacle that gets in their way. If they want Rafael, for whatever reason, they’ll take us down to do it.”

“Let’s not make any assumptions,” Amanda tries to assure him, looking at both of them. “Let’s wait until Mike wakes up. Their leader talked with him before we were brought here.”

Although it’s an unwarranted wait, Sonny accepts it and relaxes against the pillar. Nick huffs at the suggestion but stays silent otherwise. It takes a few more minutes before Mike wakes up and for the four of them to catch up on any details they may have missed. Mike, in front of Amanda and Sonny, though a bit groggy and curving more on his right side, confirms that the trolls are a band of mercenaries looking for the source of The Break. However, unlike the vigilante union that the four of them have joined, they are not interested in understanding it or helping the world progress from the previous society. The trolls are under orders to extract the magic and take control. Sonny instantly hates the implications of that statement.

“Rafael told us the magic he was granted came from an old tome,” Mike explains when the three of them start to bombard him with questions. There’s a blotch of scarlet on his left side, and every shift of his body has him easing pressure from that side of his body. He’s assured all of them that it’s only a minor wound from a rough fall from the trolls’ leader and nothing to get upset over. “The only way that type of magic can be extracted is if an empty book is prepared as a host and presented to the source during a ritual. Hypothetically, if Rafael wanted to give his magic away, he could transfer it to the book and make it a fresh tome, but there are several complications that can come from it.”

“Because he’s a living being,” Amanda says with a grimace. “Not an inanimate object. You can easily take the magic out of an object but you can’t do it with a person.”

“Essentially. The details are still murky.” Mike straightens up, throwing a glance over his shoulder, at his bonds, with disdain. “Munch explained it to me during my debriefing. It’s a similar process to how warlocks earn their magic: they make a deal with a patron and they receive their powers, but it can be taken away just as easily. Sorcerers have their magic bestowed upon them, whether they want it or not, and the removal of that magic functions in the exact same way. But since they don’t always have contact with their source, it’s more difficult to do.”

“So, hypothetically,” Sonny muses, “if they have an empty book, they can cast a spell that removes Rafael’s magic.”

Mike rolls his shoulder with a deep frown. “It’s more of a ceremony than a spellcasting. And they need to cleanse the book and prep it before they do anything. But yes, hypothetically.”

“Okay, so how do they do that? And if he doesn’t want it to happen, what can we do about it?”

“Calm down, Sonny,” Amanda chides. “Right now, none of us are doing anything. Not until we’re freed and find out where they have him.”

“That’s fine. Let’s just make that happen sooner.” Sonny tries to stand but falls back against the ground with a harsh thump. The ropes around his wrist must be providing more restraint than just pinning him to the pillar.

Mike lets out a deep sigh and shifts his arms, mumbling quietly under his breath. It takes one shift of his arms, a slight lean back towards the rope, and he brings his arms in front of him, the rope seared apart at the wound binds. He stands with help from the pillar, keeping one hand over the red stain on his side, and makes his way to the table of supplies. It doesn’t take him much longer to break the rest of them out with a slice of Nick’s dagger and return their things to them. In just a few minutes, they’re dressed in their armor and freed from their binds, gathered close to the wall and listening to anything outside the door in case one of the trolls walks in and sees they’ve broken free.

“I can’t tell if the trolls are really that dumb or if they wanted us to get out,” Nick mumbles under his breath.

“It was the trolls,” Mike replies with an unimpressed grimace. “They’re working for someone else but it looks like they didn’t make their orders clear.”

“How do you know that?” Sonny asks.

“If they have orders to find what they thought was the source of The Break, it’s not coming from someone like them. Trolls wouldn’t normally care about that.”

“It didn’t sound like they were working for a troll, either,” Amanda adds. “I know it’s not easy to determine that type of stuff from a one-sided conversation, but I heard them talk to someone before they placed their sleeping charm.”

“Well, what are we doing waiting around here for?” Sonny starts to move towards the door but is stopped by Nick and Mike grabbing his shoulders and hauling him back with them. There was more noise coming from overheard now, more bangs and groans that get lower with each loud smack against the floorboards. It was worrisome to think about what could be happening above them and who was involved in it.

_ “Sonny, he hasn’t even gotten introduced yet.” _

_ “Yeah, can you not wait two seconds?” _

_ “Am I not allowed to be worried about someone?!” _

“Is your spellbook still in there?” Mike asks Amanda with a nod to the bag slung over her shoulder. She nods and reaches in the satchel to retrieve it. “Good. We’ll need Pass Without Trace to get through everything.”

“Do you need a lockpick?” Nick wonders; at the nod, he digs through his own bag for his kit. “Give me two minutes.”

Mike looks at Sonny and gestures to his sheath. “When we start advancing, I need you to keep an eye on our rear flank. We won’t be invisible, but if everything goes right, we should be able to sneak right past anyone who may be passing.”

Sonny nods. Nick grabs a pick and stays against the wall as he goes to the door; Amanda is reading up on the spell she’ll need to cast to help them. “I can do that. Are we heading out?”

There’s a bit of hesitance in Mike’s voice, on his features, lingering on his lips and tongue. “I don’t think we can.”

Amanda whips towards him with a glare. “Are you serious?” She seethes. “We need to leave and head back to base. We can’t continue with our mission.”

“You heard Rafael yelling at them. We aren’t done here.” He looks between the two, and then at Nick when he pauses his tinkering at the doorknob. “We were told to find out more about The Break. That includes Rafael, even if he doesn’t want it. He’s a vital part of what caused the Old World to collapse. He’ll be better off with people who aren’t motivated to kill him.”

Amanda’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure you’re able to make that call?”

“I’m sure.” Mike is a firm pillar, confident in his stance and unyielding. Sonny has a feeling that Mike knows what’s going on upstairs in the room above them, or an idea of it at the very least. “If we wait to do anything, if we even take the time to message Liv for backup, we’ll be too late.”

Even if she doesn’t look too sure, when Nick gets the door open in record time, Amanda casts the spell and leads them out the door to a larger room, this one darker but more spacious. Mike follows after her, whispering directions quietly and keeping an eye on what’s in front of them. A few trolls are sleeping at the opposite side of the room at an old card table but don’t move when they sneak past. Nick and Sonny, bringing up the rear, keep their eyes on them. If anything goes wrong, if they were to be seen, Sonny could get them out of the way, and Nick would move too fast and silent for them to do anything to stop him. Amanda keeps the book open and guides them over the weakest part of the stairs they trek up. Her spell will last an hour, so their movements will be quiet, but it’s the meaning behind it that matters. They always did make a good team.

When they reach the top of the stairs, there are a series of voices coming from an open door at the end of a long hallway. The upstairs has more remnants of the family that might have lived there before The Break, the floor crowded with old toys and torn books. Amanda guides them through the mess while Mike directs them to the room. There’s not much in it—a few bed frames, a mattress on its side, and a fallen bookcase, accompanied by a few strange stains over their surfaces and the floorboards—but the room across from it offers more. There are a few different voices, one of them definitely not belonging to a troll. It sounds too humanoid to be beastly.

The four of them crouch and wait for the voices to pick up—it’s only the trolls now, more small talk between them than anything—and then make their move. They move inside one by one, low to the ground and close to the wall. Amanda and Nick end up crouching behind a heavy desk; Mike and Sonny use a large sofa that’s closer to the door, just covered by the dark to peek over the sides.

The sight he lays his eyes on is not pleasant. Sonny didn’t have much to expect from this, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to see Rafael, curled on his side and breathing heavily. His cloak is gone but his suit is ruffled, and there’s a suspicious red blotch on his neck. There doesn’t seem to be any external or troubling wounds, which is reassuring for now. Mike lets out a silent breath, probably already concocting the best plan to get him out of here and somewhere far away.

There are three trolls in the room: two are standing guard against the far wall, but one of them is pacing around the sorcerer. It talks to him in Orcish, the guttural sounds and grinding words ricocheting against the bare walls. Rafael must understand what he says because he shifts against the floor and exhales slowly.

“No,” he murmurs, barely coherent. The troll nudges him with a grunt; Rafael groans and shuts his eyes. “I don’t know them. I met them yesterday.” He pushes himself up, arms trembling, and sits up as best he can. He stays bent over his knees and clutching his gut. “Trust me, if I could give them up, I would.”

The troll snickers under its breath. “Too bad we won’t trust you,” it sneers. “Our boss won’t like that answer.”

“You can tell Buchanan to fuck off into the Arctic.” The insult is barely out of his mouth before the troll is pushing him down with a knee to his shoulder and stepping on his hand. Rafael chokes on a throaty whine of discomfort and pulls his hand close to his chest. The two trolls standing against the wall laugh; Sonny feels sick to his stomach.

“Pathetic. I can’t believe you’re the cause of The Break.” The troll bends down and wraps his fingers around strands of hair. It already looks ruffled and handled, and the orcish creature only makes it worse. He breathes harshly in his face in order to gain his attention. Rafael’s nose crinkles at the breath but he stays put. “We’ve taken a long time to find you.”

Rafael swallows, and Sonny can see the beginning of a smirk on his lips. “You must not be good at your job. How many trolls does it take to find a powerful sorcerer?”

“A good number,” says a voice from the door, and a large man enters. He looks human but isn’t dressed for battle, wearing a suit similar to Rafael’s. Judging by the straightened backs of the trolls against the wall, Sonny would guess he’s the boss of the operation; the trolls probably do all the physical work for him. The troll releases Rafael and lets him drop to the ground so that the other man can walk to the middle of the room. He waves to the sorcerer, who has slumped over and just barely manages to sit himself up again. “Don’t just stand there, get him a chair. I wanna talk to him face to face.”

The trolls pull out two chairs for the men, and Rafael stands on his own and faces the stranger. He’s a bit wobbly, his legs clearly struggling to keep him up, but Rafael is definitely a fighter. He stays standing and keeps eye contact with the other man, unwavering and as steady as he can manage. “Were you waiting for the perfect moment, Buchanan, or do you always take this long getting to me?”

“I wanted to keep you waiting.” The man, who must be Buchanan, takes the chair offered to him and sits. The two who were standing at the wall leave and take guard outside; the other one remains, leaning against a small table and crossing his arms. There’s a window, grimy and intact, on the wall behind the table; Nick points it out with a quiet raise of his finger and a glance at Mike. Rafael stays on his feet, even when Buchanan waves for him to take a seat. “C’mon, Rafael, don’t be stupid. You should relax, take it easy.”

“You would know. I haven’t slept in hours.” Rafael shifts on his feet, starting a small pace from either side. If he sees Sonny and his team, who still crouch to keep themselves hidden, he doesn’t say. “Your goons made sure of that.”

Buchanan shrugs, almost innocent if his words weren’t so venomous. “I wouldn’t have to be rough if you told me what I wanted.”

Rafael, smirk biting and bitter, shakes his head. “You don’t know how to fight, coward. You never did. You always got others to do it for you.” He spins on his heels and points an accusing finger at the other man. “What happened to Rita, huh? I heard she got tired of listening to your complaints that I will always be better than you, more powerful than you could dream, and she abandoned your plan to stop me.”

“I didn’t take you for a gossiper,” Buchanan sneers at him.

“You aren’t denying it.” Rafael gets closer, looming over the larger man, anger flitting in his eyes and sprouting from the orange flames that skirt over his shoulders and between his fingers. “What did I ever do that made you hate me so much? Was it because I wiped out your first servants of trolls with a snap of my fingers, or was it the comments I made towards your employer?” His next words are in Elvish—Sonny, even if he isn’t fluent in Elvish, knows the sounds and is familiar with it enough to recognize it. The wide-eyed look Amanda gives them tells him that whatever was said was not pleasant.

The troll grabs Rafael around the waist and drops him to the ground. Rafael grunts at the harsh hit, writhing under the foot pressed in the center of his back. The huff he makes is more out of annoyance than pain, and he tries to move out from under it, but the heel of the troll’s boot digs into him, leveling him against the floor and replacing his breath with wheezes. Buchanan, rising to his feet rather casually, shoos the troll away to help Rafael stand. The shorter man, gasping for air and clutching his chest, is entirely dependant on staying upright with the other weight supporting him. The grimace and unpleasant grumble of words that leaks from his mouth prove he isn’t happy about that, but the quiver of his knees prove he has little choice. He plops down with a glare for Buchanan and accepts his fate, for now, sagging against the back of the chair and gripping his knees for support.

Buchanan walks behind him and drops a large hand on the sorcerer’s shoulder. “We’ve had our differences, Rafael, but I’m willing to put them aside for my employer’s sake. You know how it is, as a sorcerer, having to constantly prove to others that you’re deserving of the great magic you wield.” He releases his shoulder and moves to stand in front of him again, yellow magic at his fingertips, his eyes trained on Rafael like a snake seconds from swallowing its prey. “So you should know our interest is in you, not in your friends hanging out in the basement.”

“I’m not friends with them,” Rafael spits out, short and gruff, but he is either ignored or not heard. Buchanan carries on without missing a beat.

“If you tell us who they are, and what they’re doing here, then we’ll release them without any issue. They’ll be unharmed, out of the way, and you’ll have no worries about them.” He smiles, looking more like a grimace when he speaks. “Well? It sounds good, doesn’t it?”

Rafael glares at him, clearly not falling for the ploy. “By ‘release’ them, you mean kill, don’t you?”

Buchanan looks mildly offended, clutching his chest and gasping. “Rafael. What type of man do you take me for? I don’t  _ want _ to lay a hand on them. But you were rather intimate with them, weren’t you?”

Mike taps Sonny on the shoulder to gather his attention and makes a waving gesture in the air like he’s asking for a pen. Sonny pulls out a quill and vial that still has some ink from his satchel and hands them over. Mike begins scratching something down on a piece of parchment, using the floor as a flat surface.

Rafael doesn’t answer, glowering in lieu of a verbal reply, and Buchanan pats his shoulder in mock affection. Rafael shakes it off when the other man continues; “Look, Rafael, I understand party loyalties and all that, but do you really think those fools can protect you? Two humans playing dress-up, a wood elf way out of her element, and a creature that shouldn’t even be alive, let alone associating with a band of misfits like them.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” Rafael snaps, sitting up immediately at the latter description. Nick shifts uneasily at the mention. “It’s bad enough they’re ousted from society. He doesn’t need you giving him shit as well.”

Buchanan raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. I withdraw my comment on the Damned. But the rest of it stays.” His stare hardens into something harsh and judgmental; it sends a chill up Sonny’s spine just looking at it. “We know you’re working with someone. The sooner you tell us who they are, the sooner we can figure out how to handle them. We know they aren’t sorcerers, or entirely experienced with magic for that matter, so why don’t you give us something about them? Just one little bite?”

“If I had anything to give.” Rafael starts to stand, but the hand on his shoulder pins him down. He glowers up at the other man. “I don’t know them. The most I know is that they were hired to find me and find a reason for The Break.”

Buchanan is leaning to his ear now, breath hoarse and layered with a heavy threat, “And what makes you so sure we can trust that? What have you given us that isn’t already false? All those years of falsifying your identity, just to protect yourself. You could be doing it now.”

“I’m the most powerful being you’ve met. You’re stalling for time by asking me questions you already know the answer to, but  _ your _ boss,” he emphasizes the title with a poke at the other man’s chest, “isn’t satisfied. The four in the basement weren’t part of your plan. They weren’t part of mine. But I was part of theirs. And now that you’ve taken over and captured them, it looks like they’re part of your plan now. So let’s get this bullshit over with.” Rafael straightens up and stares straight ahead, brows furrowed and fingers lighting up with blue fire. “I’m tired of playing your games. I’m the only thing you want, so get your damn ritual over with so I can tear it, and you, to shreds.”

A commotion from outside tears away Buchanan’s attention, and he and the troll attend to it, rushing into the corridor. With the brief distraction, and the attention anywhere but their direction, Mike rolls the paper up, ties it with a thread he pulls from a pillow beside them, and tosses it over the couch to Rafael. Sonny had gotten a brief glance at what it had said— _ We are part of the Supernatural Vigilante Union. We are here to help. Please stay calm and we will assist you soon. _ —and hopes it can be of some help. The tube lands in front of Rafael, and he bends to pick it up with a glance in their direction. As he reads it, Mike writes down a plan for the four of them and lets Sonny read it over his shoulder before he hands it off to Nick and Amanda. It’ll take some finessing, and some great amounts of luck, but if it all falls into place, they can get it done within a few minutes.

Rafael reads the note and sighs, folding the slip of paper up and pocketing it. He sends a glare in their direction, but a bit of weight leaves his shoulders. Sonny takes it as a good sign and prays, quickly, for all of their safety.

Buchanan returns to the chairs in the middle of the room and stands in front of Rafael. There’s a new layer of irritation to his expression, caught in his arms and stance. “So,” he sighs, “it seems your friends have left.”

“I’ve heard bad things about the security here,” Rafael taunts. The troll growls at him, which only makes him grin even wider. “What did you use, tape? A lock? Did you even separate them from their belongings?”

Buchanan ignores him and gathers his attention by leaning over him. “Since they aren’t here anymore, we’re going to assume they aren’t a problem for us, and we’re going to carry out the ritual we have planned. By tomorrow evening, you won’t be coherent enough to remember your own name.” A bit of the amusement from Rafael melts at that last part, to which the other man smirks and pats him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel anything.” As he leaves, he gives an order to the troll—“keep him awake, we need him as weak as possible”—and departs without any more fanfare.

Rafael jumps to his feet to make a break for the door, but the troll throws his arm in the way and collides the crook of his elbow with his neck. Rafael falls with a lodged cough, and he rolls out of the way before the foot descends down on him again. It takes another gulp of air for him to turn over, but he scrambles to his feet, green magic already engulfing his hands. The troll lunges for him and Rafael grabs his hands with his own, pushing back against the creature until he’s pinned against the wall. Rafael uses the large hands to lift himself up and plant his feet on the troll’s elbows. His magic-covered hands latch onto the troll’s ears and he throws a knee over his shoulder to tug him on the ground. The troll, unable to fight against the magic and only managing a grab at Rafael’s back, tumbles to the ground.

“You’re disgusting, Rozaban,” Rafael smirks. “But I thought you were a better fighter than this.”

The troll tosses an elbow into his chest; Rafael flinches but keeps his hold on the troll, pinning his shoulders into the ground and squeezing his legs around his middle. Sonny grabs his sword when the troll teeters back and forth and, with a loud roar, tosses Rafael off of him like a ragdoll. He starts to stand but Mike pulls him back, shaking his head. The two trolls outside are watching the struggle with interest; if he moves now, they’ll definitely get caught.

So Sonny has no choice but to watch as the troll gains control again and pins Rafael down with a palm on his chest and an elbow at his throat. Despite his efforts to sear the limb off from the forearms or the intense wiggling of his lower body, Rafael grunts at the trap he has landed in.

“Funny,” the troll sneers. “I was thinking the same about you.” He spreads his fingers over his chest and digs in, nails curling into the dark fabric of his suit and tearing it. “Where’s all that power you were talking about?”

One of Rafael’s hands changes to purple and lodges itself in the armpit of the arm, but the troll barely reacts, trapping his arm there with a flex of muscles and pressing harder against his chest. Rafael chokes on a gasp and leans his head back, the tugs to free his hand petering out into boneless pulls. The two trolls outside laugh and lose interest, talking to each other and facing the opposite direction as the door. Amanda recasts her stealth spell the second they look away, and all it takes is Mike’s hand on his shoulder to get Sonny to move.

He hops to his feet, sword out of its sheath, and buries it into the troll’s side. The monster yells instantly and moves away, taking the sword with him, but Sonny holds on. He ducks out of the troll’s line of sight and stays behind him as much as he can. The two trolls standing at the entrance turn at their comrades’ yell, but an arrow for one of their eyes brings them down silently. Sonny pulls his sword out of the troll’s gut and manages to dodge a stumble from the creature. His attention is on him, giving Mike enough time to haul Rafael out of the way and letting Amanda prepare an escape route out the window.

Sonny gets down on one knee as if he’s going to plunge his sword up, and the troll bends down to grab him. The movement is enough of a signal for Nick to use Sonny’s back to launch up and grapple the troll around the shoulders. His legs curl around the troll’s face as his body is waved around in an attempt to remove him, but Nick is quicker and more agile than him. The swaying movements and a grip from the troll remove his hood, but Nick manages to dig his dagger straight into the troll’s skull despite the movement. Sonny catches Nick as the troll crumbles to the ground with a long groan, and the two head for the window, Nick letting him out first and watching their backs while Sonny slides down the wall from the grappling hook Amanda had prepared for them.

Mike is standing at the end, supporting a limp and barely conscious Rafael, and Amanda watches with her bow at the ready and her eyes flitting every surface around them. Mike starts walking as soon as they reunite and the grappling hook is returned to Nick. Rafael is barely able to stay upright, so Mike scoops him up, hand cradling the back of his head and supporting his weight with his right arm. Rafael latches onto him, eyes shut and knees locked around his narrow waist, looking almost peaceful if it weren’t for the bruise at his temple, the slow breaths, and the reminder of the fight he just had to put up.

“We don’t have much time before they come looking for us,” Mike breathes out. “We need to hurry.”

“The forest,” Rafael mumbles. “Hut. Protected.”

“I remember.” Mike pats him on the back with a small smile. “We’re going.”

“It’s east of here,” Amanda reminds them, already jogging in that direction. Nick—his head revealed, showing off skin tinted purple and dark curly hair, with black horns that protrude from his forehead and curve back into his hair—lingers behind to stay alert in their flank. Sonny keeps up with Mike to check on Rafael; the sorcerer should stay awake, but he can barely support himself, head lolling on Mike’s shoulder and eyes already sliding shut. He’s been through a lot and should rest.

“We’re getting you somewhere safe,” Sonny assures him. “Alright? We aren’t letting them near you.”

“Good,” Rafael murmurs. He must have been putting on a front earlier because his body is practically boneless in Mike’s arms and he sounds near-death. Now that he’s safe with them, he doesn’t have to pretend. “I hate the smell of rotten meat in the morning.”

* * *

The four of them—five, if Rafael was included, though he doesn’t do any walking—head into the forest and make their way through it without much trouble. They slow down when they get far away enough that the remnants of the buildings are well hidden from the trees. Sonny offers to carry Rafael for the remainder of the way, but there’s some dark troll blood on his clothes and decides not to. He takes Amanda’s lead at the head of the group when she carries the sorcerer, barely flinching at the weight of a body that hasn’t been unconscious for hours. If it weren’t for the slow rise of his chest, Sonny would think Rafael was dead.

“How’s he doing?” Sonny asks. They stop at a fallen tree to regather themselves, adjusting armor or tightening laces. Nick supplies water once Mike is assured that everyone is okay.

Amanda had placed Rafael down gingerly on a log and tucked his head under her folded cloak. She toys with the string of her bow and sits with her legs spread beside the passed-out sorcerer. “He’s as fine as he can be,” she frowns, reaching over to brush his hair out of his face. “His magic is still alive at least. He’s drumming up a storm.”

“I’ll heal him when we get to his hut,” Mike says. He hands both Sonny and Nick—who’s sitting away from them, his hood still off and showing off the horns on his head—wet cloths to clean themselves off with. “When I got him out of there, he said it was the best place to go.”

“No one knows where it is,” Sonny points out. “It could be anywhere here.”

Mike shrugs. “We’ve stayed on the path as much as we could. We should be fine.”

They get started again, this time focused on their light supplies as the sun starts to set. Mike keeps an orb of light above their heads to guide them through the thickening forest. Sonny and Nick maintain their guards at the respective front and back of the group, but there’s a tense silence that remains over them. Sonny hates the feeling and wishes one of them would break it. It isn’t until they reach a modest hut in a rather crowded area of trees and underbrush that they address it. Mike takes Rafael into the hut to begin healing him and properly treating any wounds. The other three stay outside to keep watch. The area is barely visible from outsiders; someone would need to know it was a home beforehand in order to make any type of recognition.

Amanda’s eyes are trained on Nick while they wait for Mike to return. Sonny had doubted the sight before them when he realized the hood was gone, but those are definitely dark horns protruding from Nick’s forehead and curving back against curly dark hair. His skin is a hue of mauve, and his eyes are a rich golden swirl, lacking pupils. His race is nothing but full tiefling: a being who carries the burdens of a curse on their shoulders and must fear for their safety from those who want to preemptively judge them. For so long, Nick has hidden his face from them, and it makes sense why. The fear of disapproval and rejection are sometimes greater than any other burning urge.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Amanda abruptly admits, her gaze warm and reassuring. Even though it’s directed at them, Sonny is glad it’s meant for their companion, as a sign of solidarity.

“So am I,” Sonny says, albeit staring right at Nick and barely flinching.

The compliments and soft reassurances cause Nick to smile, wide and small but present; it’s strange to see emotions flit across his face when he’s been sharing them in short noises. There’s little for them to hide now, at least what’s important enough to reveal to each other, and they aren’t going to abandon the other based on history or identity. After all, they’ve always been a good team.

Mike comes out of the hut and sits on the front steps, legs stretched out and hands digging through his hair. The trio waits for their party leader to speak before saying anything; when he looks up at them, his eyes are tired and shining. “He’s okay for now,” he sighs. “We’ll need to wake him up soon. The longer he stays like this, the harder it’ll be to drag him out. But he’ll be alright.”

“That’s good,” Nick nods. Mike smiles at him, another sign of solidarity even if the conversation is on something entirely different. “Did he say anything earlier?”

“Just that his injuries are mostly from fighting back. He shouldn’t be in terrible shape.”

“He looked pretty bad to me,” Sonny frowns.

“Even so, right now, he’s safe. He’ll be alright.” Mike leans against the step and stares at the sky. The stars above them twinkle and burn, silent eavesdroppers above them. “We just have to play a waiting game.”

They create a lookout plan and settle for the night, drifting and talking, waiting for answers.

* * *

“I appreciate you guys not ruining our campaign,” Amanda sighs, glaring at the only couple in the room, “but did you have to do this?”

“Honestly,” Mike remarks, looking up from tidying the dining table at the eager makeout session currently happening between Sonny and Rafael on their couch, “in their defense, they’ve been too busy to see each other. We should give this to them.” It was somewhat true, maybe exaggerated for their benefit, but when all it took was a simple compliment at how well Sonny’s paladin did for them to shove their tongues down each other’s throats, maybe there was some truth to it.

“What a load of shit,” Nick huffs. “They do this every time. I’m never doing another campaign with them again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You like that koala Barba reference I made? 😎If I'm proud of any contribution I've made to the Barisi fandom, it's introducing Rafael Koala Bearba to the world
> 
> Tieflings are a race from D&D that are basically half-human and half-fiend (demons, evil dieties, etc) even if the bloodline is years old. They get a lot of shit for having Infernal (evil) heritage and in return are generally suspicious of outsiders. From the official D&D 5th edition: "Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children's children will be held accountable."
> 
> I don't have a reason for making Nick a tiefling. It just spoke to me and I love him a lot and want the world for him


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two paladins, a rogue, and a ranger walk into a hut. The sorcerer there is pissy but he makes a great teammate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping this would be out earlier in the day but unfortunately I wanted to touch this up a bit more before I posted it. I wanted to touch up the final scene and make sure it was great for you guys!
> 
> Anyway, here's the last part of the . Since I posted the second fic for the ~spooky~ series today, the last one is coming up soon! After that, I promise I'm finishing up "Bed Partners" and then I'm cracking down on the farm au that is Totally Not A Stardew Valley AU But Is Totally A Stardew Valley Au and if I don't then please kick my ass and forbid me from writing Barisi until I do

Sonny takes the patient lookout over Rafael at dawn. Amanda and Mike were scanning the perimeter and protecting the land surrounding the hut, while Nick takes a much-needed rest. He had worked himself through supper setting up traps and studying the land; they had to convince him to sit down, and then again to bring him inside and rest. Rafael still hadn’t woken up, but the healing charm Mike had cast had definitely done some good: he slept peacefully, no tension of pain on his features or through his body, and any visible wounds would certainly be gone by the time the sun started rising. His clothes were still torn and ruffled in some places, but the more important concern was that his brow was no longer clenched in displeasure and his body was relaxed against the bed on the right side of the hut.

Sonny sits at the window on the other side of the room, able to keep an eye on the single room and his teammates outside. It’s peaceful to watch the sunlight filter through the window slowly, the rays enchanting through the trees and falling on the dewy grass. It’s nice, even inside, and Sonny shuts his eyes, his head propped against the windowpane.

There’s a rolling grunt behind him, the shuffle of a blanket, and Sonny turns to see Rafael sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Definitely disgruntled, from a list of factors he could choose from, he leans against the wall the bed is against and lets out a long sigh. Sonny sets aside the tome he had been paging through and leans forward. “Morning,” he greets in a low voice, mindful of whatever lingering pain Rafael might have and Nick sleeping in the chair propped beside the front door. “How are you feeling?”

Rafael looks up at his voice and rolls his shoulders. “I’m alright,” he admits. He tests his magical ability by spinning a few strands between his fingers. “A little sore, maybe, but nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

Sonny stands and prepares the rationed food they had set aside for him last night. After they had healed any of their wounds and taken care of themselves, they had tried to wake Rafael to eat something but had been unsuccessful in stirring him. Since they weren’t sure when was the last time he had eaten, they were extra careful and thorough in sparing a few of their own rations and finding a few wild fruits for him. “That’s understandable. You were pretty beaten up.”

“I tried to tell your leader to leave me alone.” Rafael reaches for his shoulders as if to pull his cloak tighter over him, but he drops his hand when he finds nothing and tugs the bed’s blankets over him instead. “You interfered with something bigger than you.”

“If we see someone in need, we’re going to do what we can to help them.” He brings the plate over and offers a comforting smile when Rafael stares up at him and wordlessly takes the food. “That includes sorcerers who were fighting us the day before.”

Rafael huffs and nibbles quietly on an apple slice. “All of you should have minded your business and left when you had the chance. You were better off leaving me behind to deal with my fate.” 

“Well, we’re well past that, don’t you think?” Sonny takes his seat back at the table under the window and opens the tome. “So you can deal with it and tell us what we want to know, or keep complaining until your voice is sore and get nothing accomplished.”

If there’s a protest, Rafael doesn’t voice it; he actually busies himself with eating everything on the plate Sonny had given him and resting against the wall. Nick wakes up and talks to him, even thanking him for not revealing his identity before he removed his hood. Rafael is much kinder in his speech, but he hardens immediately after Nick asks how he’s feeling and offers to be an unbiased listener if he wants to tell them anything. Sonny earns a glower for the remark, even though he hadn’t suggested it to his teammate. He just reads over the different spells and rituals in his tome and waits for Mike and Amanda to return from their posts.

Rafael doesn’t give them the chance to enter; the moment he grabs seconds, he walks out of the hut and beckons them inside with the promise that he has spells and charms surrounding the place. If anything gets through to them, intentional or not, he’ll know. He seats them on the bed and reassures them of his injuries—he doesn’t feel any pain, just a minor ache in his legs and arms, something he is more than used to. Nick stands by the door, the characteristic tail of tieflings swishing idly behind him and occasionally curling at his feet. Since his hood had fallen off, he had forgone it and only kept the cloak on when he was outside.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Mike wonders. Rafael has been pacing the room for a good few minutes and has yet to address the conversation they have been waiting to have. He shakes his head at the question; Mike only sighs and waves to his spot on the bed as an offering. “Well, don’t wear yourself down. I’d rather not have to use another healing spell on you.”

“Would you give me a second?” Rafael retorts. His tone is harsh and cruel, and just a bit stressed from the questions Mike has been throwing his way. If he’s going to be tense with them before they even address the problems on their mind, they aren’t going to get far when they’re actually allowed to ask him things.

Amanda says as much when she scoffs and rolls her eyes at his behavior. “It’s not gonna get any easier for you. If you think we’re bad now, what do you think it’ll be like when we actually start asking you things?”

Rafael glowers at her comment but relaxes after a thoughtful pause. He stops pacing across the width of the room and takes his place against the desk at the wall opposite the door. Mike had stopped them from snooping, but Nick had caught a glimpse and saw nothing allegedly interesting. Rafael lets out a long sigh and leans against the desk, running a hand through his hair once and settling in place. “Alright. Let’s get this over and done with. The sooner we talk, the sooner we can go our separate ways and never see each other again.”

“We’ll talk about that when we get to it,” Mike insists, most likely to stop any of them from protesting or causing a scene. He smiles gratefully when Rafael just nods, a silent invitation to start. “So. You receiving your magic is the source of The Break.”

“Yes.” Rafael looks away for a brief second. “As I said before, my parents weren’t well-versed in magic, more by choice than anything. They didn’t see a need for it.” He rolls his shoulders and scuffs his feet in an almost boyish manner. “They didn’t know what they were getting into.”

“Faes are tricksters,” Nick offers. “They don’t have a bias against anyone they choose to mess with.”

“I learned that eventually. It made it easier to accept that my mother hadn’t done anything wrong. And that’s one sentence I’m not explaining further,” he adds. The glare he sends all four of them would have stopped any attempts to bring it up, but the verbal warning does its job. Mike nods quietly; Nick gives an affirming grunt.

“Understood,” Mike confirms. “Was that team of trolls after you because you caused The Break?”

Rafael takes a moment to answer, mulling over his answer with a slight scuff of his feet and a deep sigh. “Well. That’s part of it, for sure. I met Buchanan, their supervisor, when I went to train in the art of magic and spellcasting. I didn’t pay much attention to him, but he always wanted to prove himself against me.” A sly smirk quirks up his lips. “Gods, he was obsessed with it. That bastard never changed.”

“But if he really wanted to get back at you, why the trolls?” Amanda asks. “Why would he hire mercenaries if he knew how to get to you?”

Rafael smirks before he answers; a spark of darkness filters through his eyes. Sonny bites back a shiver at the look. “If I wanted, I could take those beasts down with one finger. But my qualms aren’t with them. If I was deemed a threat to them and feared for my safety, I would defeat them.” His smirk dies down, curving into an uneasy grimace. “If they’re after me because someone told them to and paid them handsomely for it, I find it difficult to justify tearing them down. Even if the person they’re working for is a shithole. They went with the easiest money.”

“You almost make me feel sorry for stabbing one of them through his skull,” Nick mumbles.

He shakes his head. “Don’t. Rozaban was a jerk. He got off on hurting others.”

“This all sounds like a lot more than some grudge,” Sonny points out. He earns a series of curious stares for his remark and almost takes it back if it wasn’t for the brief shot of fear in green eyes that Rafael hides away with a clearing of his throat. He had hit a nerve with those words, which could only mean he was getting to the heart of understanding this man. “You capture four strangers, attack a former colleague, and go through the trouble of securing them for a lousy grudge?”

Rafael chuckles dryly. “If I say yes, that’d be such a silly explanation for all this.” He pulls out the chair tucked into the desk and sits with a resigned breath. “The specific enchantment that bound the tome given to my parents was part of a prophecy that sorcerers and warlocks had been researching for eons. If the power in the book were to ever be transferred to a person, they would be one of the strongest magic-wielders when they use it correctly. But, as a price, the world would be tossed into disarray, the land split, the population slashes, and the society reverted back to barbarian ways. And as long as the magic is out, the world will stay that way.”

A look of realization crosses Mike’s face. He nearly jumps to his feet when he speaks up. “Put that magic back into a tome, you can take the magic for yourself or redo the damage done to the Old World.”

His grimace provides a better answer than his words. “Precisely.” Rafael’s arms tighten around his middle. “It didn’t take long for Buchanan to realize I was the one who was simultaneously living out the prophecy and responsible for The Break. And for what? A blessing from my mother and some greed from my father?”

“You didn’t ask for it.”

“I could give this away.” He waves to his body with a look of disgust, a crinkle of his forehead and nose. His voice sounds rough like rocks clashing together, twisting and grinding against sharp edges. “I could let someone extract all of this from me and do with it whatever they wanted.”

“But that’s deadly,” Nick states, brows furrowed. “For warlocks, it may be different, because they’re using magic with permission from their patron. But if you even try to remove it from a sorcerer, their entire body can shut down. Those that live through the process don’t last long after that.”

Rafael glares at him. “You might not have noticed, because you were all too busy playing hero and trying to save me, but I’m not a natural product of this world. I’m a monster. I didn’t earn my magic. I didn’t work hard for it. If my parents hadn’t been so ignorant of the magic around them, they might have been able to keep me from fulfilling that damned prophecy. I could have dodged a bullet and been another footnote in a meaningless point of human history.”

Sonny hates the words coming from the sorcerer, and a part of his heart breaks for him. If he were in his shoes, he might have felt the same way; even now, as someone with a history that can be traced back hundreds of years as paladins fulfilling good service throughout their lives, the expectations placed on his shoulders can be daunting. But Rafael is different. His whole life has been dictated by the words of those who would never meet him and seal his fate, of gods who could foresee his presence and let it happen, of people wanting to use him for their own gain or to right a wrong he had no part in playing. It’s almost like he never had a chance in the first place.

When no one answers, Rafael scoffs and stands, pacing the room again. “Well, if no one else has anything to add, I’d like you all to leave.”

“That’s something we can’t do,” Mike says. Rafael twirls to face him, fire bouncing off of his hands and magic swirling over his shoulders. “While I can tell you don’t have a problem facing off against bastards like that, this is bigger than all of us. No one knows what happened to you.”

“They don’t need to know.”

“But if they did, don’t you think they’d give a second thought to going after you?”

Rafael steps closer to him; Mike barely flinches, keeping his ground steady and his stance straight. “I know the Vigilante Union trains you to seek justice for our world, but I go against everything your organization stands for. I shouldn’t trust you, the ones looking for answers to The Break, as much as I shouldn’t trust Buchanan and his ragtag team of spineless trolls.”

“We want to find answers, not change how things are. We’ve accepted that we cannot change the end of the Old World. We only want to know why it happened.”

“I can’t give you those answers. Now please—” Rafael stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide. He hasn’t moved from his spot in front of Mike, but his attention is elsewhere, gaze drifting off to a point behind him, past Nick and the front door. His lips part for a brief second but no sound falls out. Mike, always wanting to help, raises a hand but stops short of touching his shoulder.

“Someone crossed the barrier, didn’t they?” The question is quiet, the only sound in the room; Nick, his tail going rigid behind him, wraps his fingers around his dagger and turns silently towards the door. “If they’re mad you escaped, they won’t be as kind. On any of us.” He adds the last part for the others in the room, looking around at them before focusing back on the sorcerer. “Rafael. Please, let us help you. We can fend them off. If you still want us gone when they leave, we’ll part ways and never bother you again. But we can do some good if you team up with us.”

Rafael looks hesitant, eyes flitting between Mike and the outside world. There are a few distant grunts, a few rolling laughs or guttural groans, but they get closer at a slow rate. It sounds like the trolls that held them captive, but they must not know who they’ve stumbled upon. Sonny can’t tell which is scarier.

“Rafael.” Mike finally grabs his shoulders and forces their eyes to meet. “Please.”

Rafael shoos his hands away and huffs. “Fine. Let’s just get this over with.”

* * *

They hash out a fairly simple plan in a matter of minutes, just enough time for them to take their places, putting on their armor as quickly as they can and preparing their weapons. They take to their roles quite easily—Nick and Amanda camouflaged outside, Sonny and Rafael acting inside, Mike running ahead to find the trolls with the intent to separate them and ensure that the five of them defeat their brood efficiently. Maybe it’s because of the stakes, but there’s a good vibe in the room that Sonny can’t help but lean into. They’ve been in situations like this plenty of times, and there’s still a thrill that comes from playing a part, but there’s a definite shift in the meaning behind it all.

“If we were in a better situation than this,” Rafael whispers quietly, Mike’s voice carrying through as a wisp of sound from the forest, “I’d apologize for treating you so badly when we met.”

“Yeah?” Sonny says, trying and failing to bite back the smile he wants to release. “You don’t seem like the apologizing type.”

“I’m not. Don’t flatter yourself.” Although he had stood up taller for the remark, he relaxes after a beat of silence. “But it might also be because you helped me yesterday. I’m…” Rafael gulps and shuts his eyes at the word, “grateful for your help.”

Sonny lets himself smile this time, trying not to relish in the obvious attention it earns him. “I’d do it again. But let’s not make it a habit.”

Rafael chuckles at that. A bit of tension releases from his shoulders and slides off his back. “Let’s not.”

_ “What did I tell you? Rafael is just as grossly into Sonny as Sonny is of him.” _

_ “Just roll for initiative, Michael.” _

When Mike’s voice gets nearer, and Rafael lets him know they’ve crossed over the second barrier at the edge of his land, Sonny gets on his knees and reminds himself of the character he’s been playing. The point of the scene they’ll be doing is to put on a convincing argument that will bring enough attention to them without coming off as fake. The two of them had run through a few scenarios together and settled on one that would be the easiest distraction.

Rafael fires a green spear out the window above the desk, frowning at the shatter of glass and commotion outside it creates. “I quite liked that window,” he sighs.

“It’s a window,” Sonny seethes, but there’s a troll making its way up the steps, so he slips into his disguise: voice quivering, hands raised above his head, head bowed and unwilling to look the sorcerer in the eye. “A-alright, I get it, you’re in charge, okay?”

“I’m glad you remembered,” Rafael scoffs, walking around him in a circle. He makes the switch just as easily, barely a second thought or hesitation. “You’ll have bigger problems on your plate if you don’t listen very carefully.”

“Of course, of course!” Sonny spares a single glance and is shocked to see that they’ve both turned into their roles with finesse and an air of professionalism. The front door opens just a crack, a good sign that they have at least one of the trolls’ attention. “I’m all ears, please, just…don’t hurt me like you hurt my friends.” He wells up a few tears, or at least the appearance of them, and plays up the kicked puppy attitude he had suggested. “I’m gonna cooperate.”

“Now you do. Before, you weren’t doing much of that.” Rafael walks out of his line of sight, and a sharp pain lands on his neck. Orange tendrils flow from his hand and fall in his hair and on his shoulders, dusting them a light amber. “You and your team told me you could fend off Buchanan’s trolls if I paid you right. I think I was more than generous enough, but you only took down one of them.”

Sonny nods fervently and gives a nervous laugh. “Yeah, uh, well, we  _ were _ going to do more, but you told us that if we were separated, we had to come back for you. We couldn’t just, y’know, take your money and run.”

“You nearly did.” Rafael tugs his head back so he can look at him; Sonny gulps at the harsh pull. “I believe it was your elf friend who suggested you go back, yes? Right before you picked the front door open and strolled right out into freedom.” Sonny starts to shake his head, but the hand tightens, and he winces. “Honesty, sweetheart. Lying doesn’t look good on you.”

“Alright, fine,” Sonny pants, “yeah, we almost escaped. But only because we thought you were working for them!” When Rafael lets go of him, sneering under his breath at the accusation, he takes it as a sign to continue. “We did! Right when we were posing as your enemy, they came to your rescue and told us how much they needed to talk to you?” He steals a peek at his eyes, glowing orange and brewing with magic that has yet to be released but is nearing that limit. “You can’t really blame us for thinking that, can you?”

“We can,” one of the trolls announces as it nudges the front door open. It’s followed by four others flanking it and a nervous-looking Mike peering over their shoulders. “We never worked with him. We had orders to capture him for our own people and steal his magic.”

Rafael’s eyes narrow. “Why do you think I got the brain-dead vigilantes in the first place?”

“That’s your fault for trusting them in the first place,” another points out, then adds, “But, if you really want, we can double their price and take care of these two for you.”

Sonny’s faux gasp goes unnoticed, and Mike tries to get their attention to change their minds, but Rafael’s interested hum and reduced magic are their only focus. Good. “I’m listening.”

Before any of the trolls can make their case, the one furthest in the back erupts into deep yells as Mike plunges his sword into its back. The other three turn to react, but Sonny jumps up before they can attack him. He wraps his arms around the first one’s neck and squeezes as he rocks his body forward. The troll loses its balance and falls to the ground with a loud thump, wheezing for air and struggling to separate itself from him. A hand starts to wrap around Sonny’s waist, but a sizzle of magic and a verbal cast of magic tell him that he’s defended.

Another ball of light bounces off the wall in front of him, and Sonny just dodges its path. The troll beneath him tries to wiggle free, but he presses harder on its neck to keep it still. Just a bit more pressure and they can be done with. “Rafael! Aim for me!”

If there are any questions for his motive, he doesn’t get any, because a second orb soars through the air and bounces, once again, off the wall. Sonny rolls and hauls the troll up just in time for it to make contact, and the magic bursts around it, draining the life from it and knocking it out all at once. The chances of the troll coming back from that were slim to none.

Rafael had taken down the two remaining trolls without breaking a sweat; Mike had to fend off two more from entering the hut, but Amanda keeps their threats to a minimum from the roof and Nick is fast as he jumps from each of them and slices his dagger along their sides and knees. The ones that go down and stay that way are the ones who don’t struggle enough to gain an arrow through the eye as well, but instead a jolt of magic that effectively silences their groaning. Rafael waves his hand at the trolls threatening to take Mike apart, the spell rolling off his lips in fresh Latin and curling warmth, and they crumble to the ground as if their bones had been removed. And he has the audacity to yawn after he finishes with them, rolling his shoulders like it had barely been any effort.

“There has to be more,” Mike pants. There’s a bit of blood staining his front and sides, but the purple tint says it’s not his. “They were just patrolling the area.”

“We should get out before they see us,” Amanda suggests, and Nick nods in agreement. “I’m almost out of arrows and we’re out of food.”

Mike, frowning at the reminder, runs a hand over his face and groans. “Right. We weren’t meant to stay out this long.” With one last look around them, he nods and straightens his back. “Let’s get moving then.”

Sonny turns to talk to Rafael, but before he can, he’s being tugged down and pushed, with the rest of the squad, to the side by a large magic force. He looks up just in time to see Rafael shielding himself and them from a black jet of magic. It vanishes quickly, and Rafael has enough time to jump out of the way and shoot a barrage of green discs in the direction of the attack. “Get inside!” He yells at them.

“If you want to burn alive, you can do that,” the voice sneers, and Buchanan steps into view. Rafael must have seen him approaching, staring at the other man, unamused and furious. “Otherwise, I’d think twice about going in there.”

“Don’t get them involved,” Rafael warns. “This is about you and me. They aren’t involved.”

“They weren’t. But now that you sided with them, I have no other choice but to attack them.” Buchanan raises his hand, engulfed with bright red magic that stretches out from his fingers desperately.

Rafael flicks his wrist and extends two cyan orbs of light in preparation. “I’m not aligned with them. We had an agreement to deal with you and then we would separate.”

“Even if that were true, you’re at least not working with us. Which makes you,” he points at Rafael, who flinches in expectation for an attack that never comes, “an enemy regardless of your affiliation.”

He scoffs at that and rolls his eyes. “Really. You’re going to be  _ that _ picky.” A ball of red fires at him, and he just manages to deflect it and send it back. Buchanan captures it to absorb the magic into him. “Mike, get your team out of here. I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

“We agreed we’d stay until every threat was taken care of,” Mike says firmly. His sword is already drawn, magic tome in hand, Sonny ready beside him with a shield to cover both of them and a sword to defend himself. Nick and Amanda hang back in the shadows, almost as if they were returning inside, but Sonny knows they would never back down from any fight. “That’s what we’re doing.”

Buchanan smirks at them. “Well, isn’t that sweet.” He throws another attack at them, this one a green spear, and Sonny raises his shield to fend it off, but Rafael stops it from reaching any of them with a second blue deflector.

“If you’re staying,” Rafael mumbles, “then I hope you’re ready.”

The battle between them is entirely one-sided: Buchanan fires different rounds of magic attacks on them, from lightning bolts to icicles, and Rafael deflects each and every one. He doesn’t have the space to fire his own attack, but with each attack Buchanan releases, he shifts them closer. Mike helps with the enchanting by strengthening the shield after every hit, but the use of magic wears him down. By the fifth round of enhancement, he’s lagging behind. Buchanan takes the moment of weakness to target the opposite side of the shield and, when both Sonny and Rafael dive to deflect it, Buchanan wraps a bind of magic around Mike’s feet and trip him up. Sonny freezes when he tosses him behind him and Mike drops a few meters behind him, falling still when he lands.

“One down, two to go,” Buchanan taunts. When he fires off an orange sphere, Rafael catches it between his hands and absorbs it, immediately engulfing himself in the warm light.

“Is he a faithful man?” Sonny asks.

Rafael shakes his head with a quiet snort. “Not that I know of. Sorcerers are a bit wary of interacting with religion.” He looks down at him with a doubtful glance. “Why?”

“Just trust me.” He grabs his shoulder and squeezes tightly. An idea brews on the edges of his mind, accompanied by the prayers before sleep. He can only hope that Rafael goes along and can trust him for the moment. Just look out for the signal.”

“What signal?” Rafael asks, but Sonny is already ducking past the shield and rushing Buchanan. “Sonny!”

Buchanan grins at the fight and aims a whip of green at him, but Sonny dodges it with a roll. He never got much of a grip over magic, only having enough experience to get through a few basic spells. And with Mike down for now, barely able to support his upper body behind the sorcerer, there is only one thing he can resort to.

Sonny gets on his knees and plunges his sword into the ground. Hands clenched around the hilt, he bows his head and breathes out. The prayer rises to his throat, wraps around his tongue, and releases easily from him. “Hail unto Tyr, God of Justice, a child of your people calls to you,” he recites.

For a moment, there’s silence, just the sizzling of magic, and then Buchanan is laughing. “What is this, an intervention?”

“I have come before you for guidance through dark times, practice your values to the best of my ability, and uphold myself to the highest standards of the law of this land and my own beliefs.”

“Come on,” Buchanan scoffs, “this is just ridiculous now.”

“Now, I ask,” he glances up at the sorcerer, who stares back with bewilderment and irritation, “that you guide me to make the decision that will bring justice to this world. There are greater evils we cannot fight alone, and your assistance will be much appreciated.” He bows his head again and hopes Nick and Amanda can hear him. “Like an arrow from a bow, guide me to your solution.”

There’s a grunt from above, a shot of an arrow, and Buchanan starts yelling, Nick wrapped around his shoulders and holding his wrists in the air. Amanda’s arrow sticks out from his knee like a branch from the trunk of a tree. Sonny pulls his sword out of the ground and presses his sword along the edge of Buchanan’s neck. The sorcerer growls at the blade. Thankfully, over his shoulder, Amanda has pocketed her bow and helps Mike get to his feet.

“Look at that,” Nick sneers, “who’s Damned now?”

“Rafael,” Sonny calls out, and the other sorcerer steps into his line of sight, “can you cast a teleportation spell?”

Rafael looks at him warily. “It’s been a while, but I should be fine.”

“Good. Send us to New York City.”

* * *

It only takes Rafael a few minutes to set up the teleportation circle, and another to send the six of them, Nick and Sonny removing themselves from an arrow-less Buchanan but staying on either side and Mike able to stand on his own with Amanda’s help, to a dreary gray city. The one bridge still standing—the Brooklyn Bridge, Sonny has heard it called—almost blends in with the sky darkened with rain. According to his lessons, New York City never faced as great an attack as other locations. There was still great damage—a famous park was still underwater, the pedestal holding the green woman had sunk a bit into the water, and a number of smaller buildings didn’t survive The Break—but for the most part, the city was tall.

Sonny looks around the deserted street and, with help from Nick, guides Buchanan over to the edge of the road. In front of them is a tall building with a point that pierces the sky. He’s seen electric storms touch its point, sorcerers and wizards practicing their aim with the spire, and the halflings that filter in and out of it for the markets inside. Its original purpose is lost to those who were not alive during or do not remember The Break. But its existence lives on in a new way. Even if Rafael didn’t know their plan, he had helped them out perfectly.

“Do you know what this is?” Sonny asks the sorcerer, pointing to the building.

“It’s the Empire State Building,” Buchanan sighs. He grunts at the tightened hold Nick applies to his arm.

“Is it still called that today?”

“Come on—” Buchanan tries to protest, but Nick cuts him off.

“It’s not,” he states. “It has no name now. Those of us who weren’t alive to witness The Break know it as a market, a training ground, a building. But every day, it has a use.” He points up at the spire. “Right now, the Supernatural Vigilante Union is using it as a sign for whoever wants to find their way to us. We tell them to find that spire and head towards it until they can see the signs guiding them to the green lady in the water. If they stay along that edge, they’ll find us.”

Buchanan lets out a long sigh and shrugs them off. “Alright, quit the lecturing. I get it.”

“Do you?” Amanda scoffs. “We aren’t showing you this to brag. We were formed to help people after The Break disturbed society. When people need help, or if there’s something they can’t explain, they come to us. Some of us are scholars and stay back to archive records for future use; others, like us, go out and have to fight bastards like you.”

“We adapted,” Sonny continues. “We accepted that the Old World had its time and concluded with The Break. It shouldn’t have happened. We can all agree on that. But you cannot reverse it.”

“Even then,” Nick adds, “you’re going out on an assumption that removing magic from a person will be the same as removing it from an object.” He steps close to Buchanan, yellow eyes flaring with anger, teeth bared. “That’s not how this world works. It will never work like that, as long as we’re around. And if you think you can remove us, your grandchildren won’t leave to see the result.”

Buchanan remains quiet when the three of them back off, finished with the speech derived from the version they’ve heard dozens of times from their squad leader. Rafael stares between them, a whirlwind of emotions playing across his face like an orchestra of white noise. There is so much to take in, especially when it’s directed at him, and for what? Comradery? Friendship?

“I get it,” Buchanan mumbles. He steps away from them and turns to face Rafael, who straightens up upon being addressed. “I don’t know if you’ll ever find peace. But you aren’t seeing me anytime soon.”

“I hope not,” Rafael fires back, a bit of fire returning to his words. “My eyes will have a strain on them for the next three weeks.”

“Funny.” The sorcerer looks at the rest of them, nods at Mike, and walks down the crumbled road, never looking back.

When he’s far enough away, Sonny frowns and looks at them. “He never apologized for hitting Mike,” he points out.

Mike chuckles quietly and shrugs. “I’m fine, Sonny. Just a bit bruised.” He looks up at the tall building with a wisp of a smile. “Nice plan, though. What made you think of it?”

He shrugs. “This was the best way to get him off our backs. He wouldn’t stop any other way. It just took our codeword for attacks and the teleporter to do it.”

“You could have killed him,” Rafael offers.

“You think a paladin could murder another humanoid?” Nick smirks. “That’s cute.”

Rafael frowns at the comment but doesn’t say anything as Mike steps forward and gathers his attention. “Thank you for the help,” he says. “We couldn’t have gotten away without you. I know I was persistent, but I hope this can bring you some peace.”

Rafael swallows and nods. “Thank you. I doubt it will. They haven’t ceased after the last round of fighting I had about this, and they won’t start now. But…” He rolls his shoulders and eyes his feet, almost bashfully. “It’s a nice start. Buchanan was always the most annoying.”

Sonny and Mike chuckle at that. Amanda gestures to the south of them. “We should head back to headquarters before dark,” she says. “I’m already running low on arrows and I don’t want to run into any more feral unicorns.” She smirks when Rafael raises a brow at that. “A quartet of dark elves is trying to eliminate them by infecting them and sending them into populations of people. We’ve had to start a division focused on rescuing them.”

He shudders at the description. It was never easy to hear what someone could do to another creature. “Sounds disturbing.”

“You wanna see it happen in action?” Nick asks.

“At least for the night,” Mike adds. “It’ll be easier to leave in daylight anyway.”

“I could teleport,” Rafael points out, looking between them with a heavy glance of suspicion. “And I don’t intend on joining you.”

“We didn’t ask you to.”

“But,” Sonny juts in, “if we did, you’d be more than welcome to join. We’d love to have a world-renowned sorcerer helping us.”

Something about the description does it for Rafael. Maybe it’s the address he receives without any reference to The Break. Maybe it’s the reinstatement of his humanity on a level that he might have thought was lost. Either way, Sonny sees him relax, almost lean into the title, and glances over the four of them. He lingers on Sonny for a long while before he smiles, small and teasing. “I think I can manage that for now.”

* * *

“Alright,” Nick slams his palms on the table and stands, “I’m done here.”

Sonny frowns and watches as he heads to the balcony and stares at the city, mumbling to himself in Spanish and pacing the small space. “What’s his deal?”

Amanda, eyes narrowed and cold, glares at him and Rafael, who sits at the head of Mike’s dining room table and is equally confused by everything. “Seriously? After three nights of this?” She stands too and heads out to Nick, leaving Sonny and Rafael with an exasperated Mike. The couple shares a look with each other and then at Mike, who only shakes his head and stands to grab another beer.

Sonny looks over at Rafael. “I didn’t think we were that bad.”

Rafael shrugs and traces a pattern on the wood. “I thought we did fine. I didn’t think our relationship would get in the way of me being your DM for one campaign.”

“Hey, no, you did great!” Sonny grins when he says it, all bright dimples and white teeth. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

Rafael chuckles at the enthusiasm. “I think you’re a bit biased,  _ amado _ , but you’ll get away with it for now.”

They share a kiss—chaste and short—and get shit for it when Nick and Amanda return inside, but Rafael and Sonny aren’t too bothered by it. Besides, Rafael muses to himself, it’s only giving him new ideas for the next campaign.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line I'm most proud of for this chapter is "just roll for initiative, Michael"
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's read and enjoyed this fic and AU! I have an idea planned with a special guest appearance from Olivia Benson herself (so that Sonny and Rafael can stop flirting but they literally don't stop oh my god they're ridiculous no one can stop them) but I am definitely gonna wait a while to get that done. There are bigger projects coming from me that you'll see in the future ;)
> 
> The final part of the ~spooky~ series will (hopefully) be uploaded tomorrow! Get your spook hats on, kids, it's the ~spookiest~ one of all!


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